Anna wanted to rip the guard into pieces. She was considering giving it another go when Tristol appeared in front of them. She stopped in surprise. Where had he come from? Again, she felt the compelling pull and had to force herself to stand still.
“Change of plans. Put her back there,” he said, nodding deeper into the dungeon.
“But he’s—”
“Yes. Exactly.”
The guard’s look of surprise didn’t bode well with Anna. When she glanced back at Tristol, he was gone, as if he’d simply vanished. She wasn’t aware of any demons with that ability.
“Let’s go then,” the guard said.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To see him.” He gave her a cruel smile.
Him? Surely he didn’t mean the hybrid. “Are you taking me to the hybrid?”
“You know about him?”
“I heard you talking. What is he?”
“You’ll see.” He sneered at her. “And he’ll probably be the last thing you see. The other women didn’t last ten minutes with him. And they were special.” The guard sniffed Anna. “You smell good. Really good. Maybe he’ll like you.”
“Get your nose away from me or I’ll break it.”
“Let’s see if you talk that tough after he’s finished with you.”
The hybrid must be part of the breeding plan. God no.
Anna considered her options. The guard was out of reach. If she attacked him, he’d probably shoot her. Even if he didn’t, if she managed to kill him, Tristol would come after her. He was probably watching now. She’d never seen anyone move with such stealth. She couldn’t attack Tristol without being assigned. That would be instant death. And Tristol would take out his anger on the prisoner.
The only thing she could do was wait for a better opportunity. Where? In a locked cell? Piss-poor options. Better than dying now and leaving the prisoner alone in this hellhole.
The guard forced her down the long, dark corridor. They paused at a doorway blocked by iron bars. The guard pushed a lever, and the bars lifted.
Lance appeared behind them. “What are you doing here?”
The guard paused, repositioning the gun at Anna’s head. “Taking her to him.”
Lance seemed surprised. “He’s going to breed her?”
Anna’s throat tightened. The other man she’d felt in the cell when she woke up must have been the hybrid. He hadn’t killed her then, or done anything worse. Maybe he wouldn’t this time.
“She’ll probably be killed like the others,” the guard said. “Why are you here? The master is looking for you.”
“Tristol’s servant had a question for you. I can take this one if you want to go.”
The guard looked hesitantly at Anna. “Hell, she’ll die anyway,” he muttered. He handed Lance the gun and hurried away.
Lance’s helpful expression faded the minute the guard left. “Just you and me now,” he said, pressing the gun to her head. She felt a sting in her arm.
“What was in that needle?” she asked, rubbing the spot. Had he drugged her or poisoned her?
“Something to keep you from fighting back. When he’s finished with you, you won’t be talking to anyone.” Lance laughed and steered her several more yards toward a thick iron door. “Step back.”
Anna debated whether she could take him. He wasn’t as strong as the fat guard, but he had the gun, and the drug was already kicking in.
He unlocked the door and shoved her inside. “Good riddance,” he said, slamming the door.
She pressed herself close to the door and reached for her talisman, forgetting it was gone. She searched the shadows of the dark room. There wasn’t even a sconce here. Slowly she made out shapes in the dark. A sink, like the one in her cell, and a toilet, a bench. This one even had a bed. And someone was in it. A sound came from the bed, something between a growl and a cry.
She stayed near the door, fists clenched, ready for an attack. But her legs were already wobbling from the drugs Lance had given her. This would probably be her last fight. Images raced through her mind. People she loved. The people she considered her family—Angus, Ronan, Faelan, Duncan, even irritating Brodie with his pranks. And the women. She’d never been close to women, only Sorcha, until Bree and Shay. Then there were the people she hated—like her father. You didn’t have to know someone to hate them. And lastly, the prisoner. She couldn’t leave him alone with these monsters. He was powerful, but he was hurt.
The figure on the bed sat up. The next minute he had her by the throat. Nothing could move that fast except a vampire. He—she could tell by his size and smell he was a male—stood close, sniffing her. A burst of adrenaline cut through the fog of the drug. Lifting her arms between his, she jabbed him under the chin and shoved his chest. She didn’t have any weapons to pierce his heart or remove his head, so she went for his groin, hoping vampires had balls to go with their fangs. But he was too quick and jerked back. She glimpsed dark hair and white teeth, but no fangs.
She only saw his face for a moment. In the time it took her to blink, he flipped her over and lifted her gown. Not again. But he’d stopped. His hands were running over her battle marks. Then he leaned over her, close as a lover, and put his head next to hers. He sniffed her. Anna stayed still and tried to think how to get out of this. She would die before she let him rape her. The prisoner was different. She felt something for him. He’d been kind…and gentle.
Slowly the hybrid rose, pulling her with him. He sniffed her again as his fingers dragged along her skin, brushing her hair off her cheek. She heard a short, hard exhale, the sound loaded with shock. “I know you,” he whispered.
And she knew his voice. But he was supposed to be dead.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE DYING MAN pulled in another shallow, wet breath. “You have to protect it. Swear you’ll protect it.”
“I swear,” the prisoner said, watching the man’s life fade from his eyes.
The prisoner woke with a start. He was in the cell, not in a forest with a bleeding, dying man. Anna! He jumped to his feet and stumbled to the cell door. He was dizzy, his legs weak. Bloody potions. He put his foot against one bar and wedged his back against the wall, pushing with all his strength. His legs shook too badly to do much good. Curse the bastards. Curse them all. His eyes blurred as the guard appeared, carrying the woman. She wasn’t moving. Was she dead?
“I’m surprised you can stand after I drugged you.” The guard bent down and laid her on the floor outside the cell.
“What have you done to her?” The prisoner knelt and put his arm through the bar he’d bent. Her hand was still warm.
“You’ve bent the bars,” the guard grumbled. “You’ll have to be moved. Stay back.”
“What are you doing?”
“If you want her in there with you, then move away from the door.”
He stood and moved out of the way. The guard unlocked the door and dumped Anna inside. The prisoner couldn’t attack with his legs weak as twine and Anna injured. He knelt and put his ear to her breast. Her heartbeat was strong. She was just unconscious. What had they done to her? He checked her over. No cuts or bruises anywhere that could be seen. Did he dare look elsewhere? He settled instead for running his hands over her. No blood, but she moaned and started to shiver.
Gently, he picked her up and carried her to the corner where his blanket lay. Cradling her head, he laid her down on the blanket and sank to the floor beside her. When he was situated, he lifted her onto his lap, holding her against his chest, and covered them both with the blanket. She shivered against him, but in minutes, he felt her skin growing warmer.